


Artist Hands

by tchallabucky (PuppyWillGraham)



Series: stevebucky drabbles [12]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky has a thing for Steve's hands, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War Bucky Barnes, Prompt Fill, What doesn't the boy have a thing for when it comes to Steve Rogers, blowjob, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 22:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3667518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppyWillGraham/pseuds/tchallabucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Steve sketching Bucky, Bucky can't stop staring at those artist hands, and Steve catches him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Artist Hands

**Prompt: Steve sketching Bucky, Bucky can't stop staring at those artist hands, and Steve catches him.**

-

It all starts with Steve wanting to know if he can practice his sketching, by asking Bucky to be his subject. Bucky can hardly say no to that, not when it gives him the chance to watch those lovely artist hands at work. He could also do it without the risk of being caught, as Steve would be too focused on his work.

Or so he thought.

"Buck," Steve husks, the end of his sketching pencil--one part of a small set that Bucky had saved a lot of money up for and had bought him for his birthday just a few weeks ago--resting at his slightly parted lips. Bucky suddenly really wants to kiss that mouth, along with the fingers that seem to be  _caressing_ that pencil. Goddamn it. "Sit still. Can't sketch ya when yer fidgetin' like a baby bird."

"Sorry, Steve, I'll sit still. Promise."

Steve gives him a look, as if he already knows what's up. He was observant as all Hell, despite being partially deaf and colorblind. Those of his ailments never seemed to stop him from creating beautiful art, though.

"Ya better, Buck."

Those words probably shouldn't send a shiver down his spine, but they do. They hold some sort of...threat. Or promise. Maybe both.

The brunette nods, posing as he'd first been asked by the blonde, his head tilted in that cocky way of his, chin jutting out a little. He doesn't realize he's probably giving his best friend a smouldering look, his mind elsewhere as he thinks of all the things those hands could do to him.

_All the things he'd let Steve do to him with 'em._

God, he really needs to get laid. Or just outright ask Steve to get him off.

"Bucky," Steve's voice cuts through any half formed fantasies beginning to cloud the slightly older male's imagination, his teeth digging into his pursed lower lip. His gaze flickers up to the blonde, opening his mouth to say something but Steve just cuts him off. "What's wrong with ya tonight? Yer mind is all over the place, and ya keep starin' off into space."

Bucky could admit what was so hindering that he couldn't even sit still for five minutes, but then that would be admitting to something aloud that he didn't know how his best friend would react to it.

Or he could lie, he could charm his way out of it. He could charm his way out of anything.

"Nothin', pal. Sorry, sorry. I'll do better. Promise."

Bucky tries to smile as easily as he usually does, Steve only giving him what could be considered to be a withering look in return, as if he definitely knows that something is up, being kept from him. He grunts low in the back of his throat, but says no more as he taps the end of his pencil against that oh-so-kissable mouth of his, his tongue dragging along the lower of his set of lips slowly as he puts pencil to paper.

Bucky stares. Was he...doing it on  _purpose_?

That tongue was another sight to behold. The things that  _that_ could do to Bucky. He almost groans just at the mere thought of it, clearing his throat as he shifts into a more comfortable position. One that would make the sudden tightening of his slacks less obvious.

Steve faintly smirks to himself, sensing Bucky shifting even as he keeps his gaze on his sketch. He was doing what he was doing on purpose, knowing that Bucky had lied to him. Maybe if the brunette had just told him, then he'd have given him something to _really_ work his frustrations out on.

He lasts longer than Steve had anticipated, and when Bucky finally tells him what's been keeping his mind away for half the night, he just gives him another look, a heated one this time.

"I can't stop thinking of yer hands, an' what it'd feel like t'have 'em all over me," are the words that Bucky chooses to voice, his tone huskier as if he's already halfway there to being gone, gone,  _gone_ , and Steve places his pad and pencil down before rising smoothly and advancing on the man he'd had his eye on for the best part of five to ten years.

Bucky stares up at the smaller male, his legs spreading slightly as he deems it useless to hide just how interested he's become over the past few hours, sitting and stewing in his own sexual frustration. Reaching out, he grasps as gently as he can at the blonde's slim hips, tugging him onto his lap. Steve, however, smirks again and pries Bucky's hands away before sliding off and down onto his knees.

"Now, ya coulda just told me, Buck, and I coulda done somethin' about  _this_ ," he presses the heel of his small hand against the tented front of Bucky's slacks as he speaks, his voice sounding even deeper than usual. So deep for such a small fella. "Hours ago. Why didn't ya tell me?"

It's a perfectly valid question, but with the way that hand is pressing down against his erection, all he can voice is a small, wrecked moan in the back of his throat. Steve Rogers practically has Bucky Barnes by the balls, and the latter is all too happy to do nothing about it.

"Ah, ah," Steve says, licking his lips as nimble fingers work on the belt, then the button, and finally the zipper of the brunette's pants. He pauses there. "That's not an answer, Buck. C'mon. I want an answer. Maybe then I'll suck ya off, if it's a good'en."

"Didn't wanna distract ya from yer work. Wan'ed t'..." Bucky spreads his legs a little more, as if anticipating that sweet mouth to touch him  _anywhere_ at this point. He swallows hard, wondering if he could even finish that sentence.

Steve gazes up at him, seeming to be getting off in an entirely different way with the power and control he actually holds over the male whose legs he's comfortably nestled between. He may be on his knees, but there's no denying that he's the one who's calling the shots here. He waits, pressing no further until Bucky elaborates.

"Wanted t'be good fer'ya, Stevie," Bucky murmurs, his cheeks flushed a faint scarlet. Apparently he can. "Ya make me wanna...wanna be better."

Steve dips his hand into Bucky's pants to bring out his cock not a moment after the words are finally in the air between them, trying to keep a semblance of calm so he doesn't end up suffering some sort of asthma or heart attack. The least he could do was suck his best friend off for all his trouble.

Immediately, Bucky's fingers of one hand find themselves in Steve's hair, whilst the fingers of his other hand cup the smaller male's angular and sharp jaw, tilting his head up and ducking his own close enough to kiss the mouth he's wanted to kiss since he was thirteen years old. Steve kisses back, his hand slowly forming a fist around hard and heated flesh, beginning to stroke Bucky off. He smiles against the brunette's lips as the other makes a soft noise against his own, a shaky groan he's obviously trying to keep inside.

Their lips fit together so perfectly, but they soon part after a couple of minutes so Steve can catch his breath and prepare himself to lose his breath again, licking those sinful lips once more before going ahead and giving Bucky something to  _really_ groan about. He can barely gaze down at the blonde head between his legs for very long--bobbing up slowly to give him a perfect view of lips stretched around his dick, tongue flicking over the tip with each sharply inhaled breath--before he finds his eyes closing for just a few seconds.

When it proves too much for Steve to handle, his chest rising and falling quicker, he resorts to his hand, Bucky's concerns stuck in his throat before he can even voice them. Steve is a stubborn little shit, and as the brunette lets his head fall back against the back of their ratty old couch, he can only be too grateful for it. He doesn't even have to look, the touches like fire against his already too heated flesh, clamping teeth down on his lower lip to stop him from crying out like he knows he would if this was taking place elsewhere, a different time, maybe a different era altogether.

He can't risk being heard, not when it was dangerous for them to even be doing something like this together. He's not really surprised that Steve is so for it. He is an artist, after all, and he's never been the goody-two-shoes type, despite what others may assume. If anyone was bound to be like this, it would be Steven Grant Rogers.

When he comes, it's with Steve's free hand clamped tight over his mouth, bright blue eyes wide and gaze unfocused as he works Bucky through his climax, his own expression probably mirroring the brunette's. Both their chests are rising and falling ragged, but Bucky's is worse off, huffing quick inhalations and exhalations through his nose as his moan is muffled by the skinny blonde's hand over his mouth.

In the aftermath, when Bucky has stopped his hips from jerking up sporadically against Steve's hold on him, he goes lax against the couch, sinking into it, almost. Steve gets up off of his knees to press a sweet kiss to Bucky's lips, before moving into the bathroom to wash his hands and then bring a wet washcloth to the other male. Bucky smiles dopily as he's handed it, clearing himself off as best he can, before shakily dumping it into their laundry basket.

Neither know what to really say after that--there's not a lot either of them can think of--so Bucky suggests they go to bed to crash out.

"Next time I'll suck you off, Stevie," Bucky yawns once they're tangled together in his bed, mostly for warmth, but also for other reasons now, too. "Promise."

Steve makes a noncommital noise in the back of his throat, even as he noses at the crook of Bucky's neck and starts to drift off, but not before muttering, "maybe."

Bucky smirks a little as he thinks of just how he can work his best friend up enough for it to even come to that, before falling asleep not too much longer after Steve does.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! comments, kudos and bookmarks are a+


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